


A Real Breakfast Club Moment

by MeghanAnna



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3488948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeghanAnna/pseuds/MeghanAnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke wakes up alone in the library at school after a day of studying to find that she's been locked in and that she isn't as alone as she once thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just like the idea of these two coming together in different ways, so I thought I'd take a stab at writing one.

Groggily, Clarke lifted her head from the table she'd been at all day. It was the same table she spent nearly every Saturday at—fourth floor, all the way in the back where no one else ever sat. It was the only place on campus she could get any real work done. Apparently, though, it was also the only place no one checked for sleeping students before closing the library for the rest of the weekend. The fourth floor was dark and from the floor to ceiling windows, she could see it was also dark outside.

“Shit,” she muttered to herself. Packing up, she looked as far as she could see in every direction, looking for any sign of life. When she checked her phone for the time, it lit up for a second before dying completely. “Shit, shit, shit,” she sighed again.

Clarke threw her bag onto her shoulder and made a run for the steps, taking them slowly to make sure she didn’t fall on her face and make the whole situation even worse. When she got to the second floor, she tried the back door, but it was locked. Of course. When she got to the first floor and tried the main entrance she knew what she’d find, but she had to try anyway. Locked.

Chancing a look at the clock above the front desk, she nearly screamed. If she had just woken up ten minutes earlier, she’d be walking into her dorm right now about to make a bowl of ramen noodles, but no. She was stuck in the library with a dead phone and a single granola bar for the next 36 hours.

“Okay, okay,” Clarke said, sitting carefully in front of a computer. “This is okay. This is going to be fine.”

She knew saying the words wasn’t going to magically teleport her out of the library and into her dorm room, but she also knew that breaking down wasn’t going to do anything either. She just needed a couple of minutes to come up with a plan or find a phone that wasn’t dead.

“How is this going to be fine?”

Clarke jumped up from her seat and clutched her hand over heart. “Who are you?” She asked and his scowl turned into a sardonic smirk.

“Who are _you_?”

“I asked first,” she insisted, dropping her hand. Scared quickly fell to the wayside and annoyance took over. “How did you end up in here?”

“Fell asleep,” he shrugged. “And you?”

“Same,” she sighed, turning in a half circle just so she didn’t have to look at his smug smile.

“So, are you going to tell me how this is ‘going to be fine?’”

“Are you going to tell me your name?”

“Bellamy. What about you, Princess?” Bellamy asked as his eyes raked over her and she clenched her fists before answering.

“Clarke,” she said, seething, and he nodded before his eyes found hers again. “And _don’t_ call me Princess, ass hat.”

“Whatever you say… Princess. What’s your plan?”

“Do you have a phone that works? Mine is dead.”

Clarke decided that taking the highroad was the right move. If she ended up being stuck with him until the library opened again on Monday morning, she wanted to make it as simple and pain free as possible.

“Dead,” he reported, holding it up. “And I left my charger back in my room.”

“Damn it, me too.”

For a second, they just looked at each other and Clarke realized he wasn’t too terrible looking. It was a shame she already didn’t like him. His hair was a mess of curls and he had a dusting of freckles over his face that made him look younger than the rest of his body did. When he dropped his eyes to the floor, Clarke did the same and grabbed her backpack before heading for the couch against the wall. She still needed a plan and it wouldn’t suck if she could find out how to turn the lights on.

Bellamy walked over and sat next to her, keeping his distance on the other end of the couch. “So… no plan, then?” He asked and she rolled her eyes before shaking her head. “You actually got my hopes up when I heard you talking to yourself. Don’t get me wrong, I thought you were insane, but I actually believed you had a way out of here before Monday morning.”

“Sorry to get your hopes up,” Clarke insisted. Before he came along, she’d actually gotten her own hopes up. “Do you know how to turn the lights on in this place? And the computers?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

And then he was gone and Clarke silently debated with herself before pushing herself up and trailing behind him. She didn’t know this guy and she didn’t exactly feel the overwhelming desire to trust him right off the bat. If he could turn on the electricity, though, she might be willing to give up her first born. If she could get on a computer, she could get onto Facebook and get Raven or Monty to get campus police to the library and let her out.

Bellamy glanced behind him and raised his eyebrows before stepping aside to show her the electrical box. “Oh my god,” she smiled and he smiled back—a real smile, too. “Open it, open it, open it.”

Bellamy laughed and attempted to pull the box open. Nothing. He looked back at Clarke quickly—worried—and tried again. Still nothing. “Fuck,” he whispered, running his hands through his hair. “Who actually locks these things?” He asked, hands thrown out to his sides.

“Who doesn’t check to see if there are students sleeping before closing down an entire building?” Clarke asked, pacing small circles. “We have finals to study for. And lives to get to. I can’t stay stuck in here with a stranger until Monday morning and then run to class without eating or bathing.”

“You think I want to be stuck in here with _you_?” Bellamy asked, practically yelling. She couldn’t blame him. The longer they were stuck in there, the more real the situation got. “I’m missing a party tonight and I have a meeting with my advisor tomorrow. This is the last place I want to be.”

“Yeah, well, welcome home,” she said, turning on her heel to head back toward the couch. “We’re stuck here. Get used to it.”

She wasn’t used to it by any means, but that didn’t mean she wanted to listen to this kid complain about it all night. He made it seem like his plans outside of the library were so much more important than hers—like she didn’t have a party to go to or important meetings to attend. Granted, she wasn’t planning on going to a party that night, but she _was_ invited to one. And she had plans on Sunday to visit her mother, which was kind of like a meeting if she considered the way her mother spoke to her. Her plans were just as exciting and important as Bellamy’s. Damn him.

Clarke used what little light from the streets to continue studying while Bellamy flipped through his book—too fast like he was using it as a fan instead of a studying tool. She kept glancing at him over the top of her book and she wasn’t sure why. They hadn’t spoken in ten minutes and she didn’t even like him, but she couldn’t look away. She actually blamed the months since she’d been with a guy. Being locked in a library—no matter how large it actually was—just the two of them, she could feel her palms start to sweat and her heart start to speed up.

Suddenly, Bellamy slammed his book closed and grunted. “What’s your problem?” Clarke asked, closing her book calmly.

“How do you _not_ have a problem?” He asked, standing up to kick the leg of the couch dramatically. “What are we going to do all damn day tomorrow?”

“Study for finals,” she told him like it was obvious. “We’re in a library; you could even read for pleasure. I don’t know. We’ll live.”

“You’ve really calmed down since I found you talking to yourself,” he muttered and she laughed quietly, shyly. “This sucks, Clarke.”

“I know,” she agreed. “You know what sucks even more?”

“Do I want to?” He sighed and she shook her head. “Just tell me.”

“We’re stuck in here until Monday with no food. All I have is a granola bar,” she told him and Bellamy sank back onto the couch. “What about you?”

“I’ve got…” he trailed off, picking his backpack up from the floor. “A Power Bar, a bag of carrots, and two bags of potato chips. I didn’t eat any of it today while I was studying. We might make it with what we’ve got.”

“I don’t know man,” Clarke sighed as she kicked off her shoes. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast this morning. I’ll hold out as long as possible, but I don’t know how long that will last us.”

“I’ll break open the vending machine upstairs,” he promised and she smiled at him. It took a second, but eventually a small smile spread across his features. “You know, if it comes to that.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly and he shrugged. “Want to explore?”

“The library?” He laughed. “I’ve seen the library before, Princess.”

“Please don’t call me that,” she said again before getting up to explore.

As she took the stairs two at a time, she heard Bellamy’s footsteps advancing toward her but she kept her eyes forward. Eventually, he was walking next to her silently, looking over at her every few seconds. She turned abruptly down a row of books and he followed behind her with his hands in his pockets. When she turned toward him and stopped, he nearly tripped over his own feet.

“I thought you’ve seen the library before,” she said and he shrugged. “Why are you following me?”

“We’re stuck in here together, so we should at least try and get along,” he told her. “And I will do my best not to call you Princess.”

Clarke thought it over before nodding finally. “Sounds like a plan.”

“So, where to now?”

The two of them continued walking through the stacks of books on the second floor. They walked the walls that were lined with windows and studied each other covertly in the light that streamed in. Clarke asked him about what he was studying—history—and he told her about which finals he had left. Bellamy asked her what year she was—a junior—and what her plans were for the summer. They talked about how they were both staying in the city for internships, her before senior year and him before grad school.

Once they got to the third floor, Bellamy was making her laugh with a perfectly told history joke. Something about a “pair of Caesars,” that she found way funnier than made sense. He looked pleased with himself as she started to calm down and she realized how glad she was that she wasn’t alone as she had originally thought.

“This is where I was sleeping,” Bellamy announced suddenly and Clarke nodded. They were at the only table in the back corner behind a stack of mathematics textbooks. She wasn’t surprised they didn’t see him. “If there was more light in here, you’d probably still see some of the drool I left behind.”

“That’s charming,” she laughed again and he joined her before turning to walk up the nearest stairwell. She followed him this time to the fourth floor. There were study rooms lining the walls and stacks of fiction books in the middle. Only a few tables were scattered among the whole floor, but Clarke’s favorite was hidden from where they were standing. “Follow me.”

He did as he was told and she led him to her little table of solace. It was there that she got all of her studying done and most of her homework. It was there that she had some pretty epic fights with her ex-boyfriend over texts and even one over the phone. Thankfully, since it was so out of reach from the rest of the library, she was able to do so with no interruptions or dirty looks. Now, in the dark, it looked a little sad without her books or computer taking up residence. It looked like just a regular desk.

“So, this is where you woke up and realized you were screwed?” Bellamy asked and she nodded. “You’ve found yourself a nice piece of real estate here. If you show up next Saturday and it’s taken, I promise to apologize.”

“Don’t even think about it,” she challenged and he laughed. When he did it, he bent his head a little, like he was hiding something, and his hair fell into his face. Clarke had and the urge to brush it to the side, but she refrained and turned back toward the middle of the room. “It’s got a pretty decent view up here,” she called behind her and eventually Bellamy rounded the bookshelves to show himself again.

“I bet you can see the party I’m supposed to be at,” he mumbled before joining her to gaze out the windows. “That’s my favorite coffee shop,” he mentioned, pointing to the street below them.

“That’s mine,” she said, standing on her toes and pressing her face to the glass so she could see it down the street. He did the same and nodded before falling back on his heels. “They have great scones, but better lattes.”

“No, you want a great scone, you have to go right there,” he insisted pointing at his coffee shop again. “I don’t know anything about lattes, but their black coffee will keep you awake during an accounting class.”

“You’re a history major, why are you taking accounting?” Clarke asked, turning so her back was against the glass so she could slide to the floor and cross her ankles in front of her. Bellamy did the same until they were shoulder to shoulder.

“I work part time at a bookstore and they want me to take over the bookkeeping this summer,” he explained. “I had an elective free and no prior knowledge of bookkeeping, so I thought I’d take it so I didn’t fuck up royally.”

“That’s smart,” she commented. Bellamy shrugged and pulled off his jacket, revealing a tight blue t-shirt. Clarke nearly sighed at the sight, but she held herself together—even when his bare bicep brushed against hers. “I feel like we should tell each other about ourselves.”

“I don’t know if I feel the same way,” he admitted, his head falling to the side so he could glance at her.

“Why not? This could be a real Breakfast Club moment,” she laughed and he shook his head. “You don’t like The Breakfast Club?” She asked—astounded.

“I love The Breakfast Club,” he insisted and she nodded for him to continue. “But what happened on Monday, huh? You know Bender and Claire weren’t making out in supply closets anymore and that no one was talking to poor Brian. So, what would happen to us, huh? We leave here Monday morning and never see each other again, that’s what. What’s the point in learning all this valuable information about someone you’re never going to see or speak to again?”

“Wow,” Clarke sighed. She pushed herself to stand and started toward the stairs. “You’re really cynical, aren’t you?”

“I’m realistic,” he called after her as he jumped up to follow her. “If I tell you my secrets, you’ll just be a stranger out there with way too much personal information about me and it could slip out at a moment’s notice and ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.”

“Oh my god,” she laughed, tuning on the first step to fling her arms out dramatically. “Who do you think you are? Some kind of king? And who do you think I am? I wasn’t asking for personal stories or secrets. I just wanted to get to know the person I’m going to be stuck with for the next two nights.”

She stormed off down the stairs, annoyed again. They were having a good time over the last hour. Even if they did end up sharing secrets and personal information, she had no interest in letting his spill out. She was a great secret keeper, actually, and a fantastic listener. He was missing out on some quality venting opportunities. It was his loss.

Once they were back on the first floor, Clarke started pushing the couch away from the windows so she didn’t get cold while she slept. Bellamy stood—watching her—with his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow arched in amusement. She thought about telling him there was a couch on the other side of the stacks so he could pull it over and join her, but she didn’t care if he slept on the floor.

“Tomorrow, we might be able to get someone’s attention from the windows,” Bellamy said finally and Clarke nodded, not wanting to get her hopes up. “Hopefully it’s someone from school that knows the library is supposed to be closed.”

“That’s the bad thing about going to school in the city,” Clarke said. They were in Boston and their school was scattered across the city with no real campus. The library was just another building to anyone who didn’t go to or work at the school. “Also, if it snows like they said it was going to, then we might not see anyone at all.”

“It’s only supposed to snow a few inches,” he said and Clarke shrugged. She lay down on the couch, tucking her toes between the edge of the cushion and the arm. She looked over at Bellamy and his eyes were still trained on her. “I’ll be right back.”

Clarke sighed as he walked away. She couldn’t believe that they were in this position, that they were honestly trapped in the library with no phones and no electricity for two nights. It was like a cliché movie plot, but it wasn’t. It was her life.

If it _were_ a movie, he would be hot _and_ nice. He would be looking at her the same way she kept looking at him. By now, they’d probably be half naked, trying to fit on her one couch. Since it wasn’t a movie, though, Bellamy was pulling the other couch toward hers and setting it up a few feet in front of hers so they would be forced to either face each other or the backs of their respective “beds.”

While he got comfortable, Clarke kept her eyes trained on the ceiling and listened to him moving around. Just as he started to quiet down and settle into his couch, her stomach growled. She was starving and it was going to be a long day tomorrow if she didn’t eat something. So, she dug through her bag and pulled out her granola bar.

“I might have to take you up on breaking down the vending machine,” she said, tearing off a small piece of the bar so it would last long enough to trick her body it was enough.

“Happy to do it.”

Clarke nodded to herself, biting off even smaller pieces of her already torn piece of food. She could feel Bellamy watching her, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking back at him.

“Truth or dare?” He asked finally and her eyes finally snapped to him.

“That game could get pretty personal, you know,” she reminded him and he shrugged with a smirk.

“Maybe you’re right, but it’s going to be a brutal night if we just lay here in silence. It’s only 9,” he said and she nodded. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she answered, rolling onto her side to look at him. He did the same thing and smiled at her before speaking.

“What’s your aversion to the nickname, Princess?” He asked and she sighed. He was starting in right where she didn’t want to go at all. Sharing was her idea, though, and she couldn’t let him win that easily.

“My ex-boyfriend used to call me that,” she explained. “Things didn’t end well, so the name kind of hits me right where it hurts.”

“Noted,” he nodded and she smiled tightly, letting out another sign.

“Truth or dare?” She asked, happy the heat was off her.

“Why don’t we just stick with Truth? What are the two of us going to do alone in a library that would consist of a dare?”

“That makes sense,” she agreed. She pushed herself to sit up, crossing her legs on top of the cushion. “You said you were supposed to be going to a party tonight; is there someone there you wanted to see?”

“Well, it is a party full of my friends,” he laughed. “So, yes. I’d like to be hanging out with my friends… and my little sister. She’s a sophomore.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Clarke smiled and Bellamy just laughed again before sitting up. “Do you see her a lot?”

“Not as often as I’d like,” he admitted. “She’s a bit of a loose cannon, I like to keep an eye on her.”

“Oh. You’re one of _those_ older brothers, huh? Overprotective?”

“That’s your third question,” he told her. “It’s my turn. Do you have a brother like that? Overprotective?”

“I don’t have any siblings,” she explained. “I have a best friend in school at Tulane, though, and he likes to think he’s my protective older brother. When I’m not worrying about finals and school, sometimes I need that—someone to watch over me. Otherwise, I make… dumb decisions.”

“Like choosing an asshole for your boyfriend?” He asked softly.

“Exactly,” Clarke admitted. “My taste in men is not fantastic and Wells knows that better than I do.”

“What would Wells think about someone like me?” Bellamy asked and Clarke’s jaw nearly dropped.

“Um,” she tried, folding her hands in her lap. “I don’t know. We only just started this game.”

“Okay,” he conceded, laughing quietly. “What about first impressions? Where would I stand?”

“I can’t speak for Wells,” she reminded him and he nodded. “But for myself, I would have to say you’re not my typical type.”

“You’re so vague,” he laughed again. “It’s your turn, anyway.”

“Cheating,” she said, still vague and aware of it. Bellamy just furrowed his brow and waited for her to elaborate. “Have you ever done it? Cheated on someone?”

“You can’t really cheat when you’ve never committed to anyone,” he answered slowly. “You’ve been cheated on, I guess? That ex-boyfriend with good taste in nicknames?”

“Nailed it,” she joked, clicking her tongue. “I figured you as a love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Wells wouldn’t approve.”

She was teasing him, but she didn’t like thinking it could be true. When he was being cooperative and conversational, she liked Bellamy. She could see herself becoming friends with him… Or whatever else might come up.

“Not anymore, sadly,” he explained. “I thought it was time that I grow up, you know? I’m graduating in six months and I thought it was time to be a man and make a commitment. Since I don’t have any woman to commit to, I’ve committed to just not sleeping with random girls I meet in bars or friends I know I don’t have to worry about falling for me.”

“After falling and getting my heart stomped all over,” Clarke sighed, wringing her hands in her lap, “I’ve realized that I don’t know what I’m looking for anymore and maybe I need to try something new.”

“If we were having this conversation two months ago I would make a really inappropriate remark about how I’m something new and you should try me,” he smirked and her face turned red. She was thankful for the lack of light. “But, I guess we don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“Guess not,” she murmured. After a few moments of not looking in his general direction, she realized that neither of them was talking and that no one had asked a question in quite some time. “Do you like wine?”

“What?” He laughed and she smiled, reaching for her backpack.

“I stopped by the liquor store before coming in here and bought some wine for the movie night I was supposed to be having,” she explained, taking it out to show him. “And it’s a twist off.”

“I can’t turn that down,” he laughed and he joined her on her couch. After taking a long swig of the sweet white wine, she passed the bottle to Bellamy. “Thanks,” he said, making a face.

“Wine’s not your drink, is it?” She laughed and he shook his head, but took another long sip. “Could have fooled me.”

“I drink what’s offered to me,” he insisted.

They continued passing the wine back and forth and asking much less threatening questions. His favorite color was red. He played baseball when he was a kid, but got kicked off the team for not being a team player. He drank beer, _not_ wine. He lived with his best friend in the same building as Clarke, surprisingly.

“What floor?” She asked, pulling her knees to her chest.

“Twelfth,” he answered, passing the bottle from one hand to the other. “1215.”

“417,” she smiled and he nodded, arching an eyebrow. “Finn lives on 12.”

“Finn?” He asked and she covered her face with her hands. “ _Finn Collins_ is the cheating ex? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Why?”

She was defensive all of a sudden even though she knew what kind of person Finn was, at least now that she knew what kind of boyfriend he was. It was her right to hate Finn, but it wasn’t Bellamy’s right to judge her for once loving him.

“I don’t know,” he said, passing her the bottle and she took a generous sip. She could feel the wine in her face and her head. They were almost halfway finished with the bottle. “I just- he’s kind of a douche. He thinks he’s this big shit when really, he’s just kind of a piece of shit. You seem like a smart girl…”

“I am a smart girl! I fell in love with him and he turned out to be a piece of shit. I didn’t know he was one when we met,” she told him and he held his hands up defensively.

“You deserve better, Clarke. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking a drink before handing him the bottle again. “New topic, please.”

“You got it,” he promised.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two trapped in the library. How do they end up entertaining themselves?

When Clarke woke up, she almost forgot where she was, but then she heard pages turning. She turned her head and saw Bellamy sitting up on his couch looking through an art book.

“Where did you find that?” She asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“We’re in a library, Clarke,” he reminded her, pushing the hair out of his face. “Definitely until tomorrow.”

“What?” Clarke asked, turning around to look out the window and she almost started to cry. The snow started before they fell asleep, but it was so light and fluffy, she didn’t think it was going to stick. Now there was over a foot on the ground and not a single person on the sidewalks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Want some carrots?” He asked, ignoring her outbreak and she scowled at him before getting up to sit next to him. As soon as she sat down, he handed her the over packed bag of carrots.

“Did you know you were going to get locked in the library?” She asked, picking up a baby carrot that fell in her lap. “This is a lot of carrots.”

“I like carrots,” he said, looking at her over the top of his book. “You’re lucky I’m sharing.”

“Do you like art, too?”

She pulled the cover of his book down so she could see what was on the page he was studying. It was one of her favorite pieces and she could sense he liked it, too. “I like some, why?” He asked, snatching the book out of her grasp.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. She pushed herself to the other end of the couch and continued to watch him. She couldn’t help it. His hair was even more ruffled after a night of sleep and she could see so much more of him in the daylight. He looked up and they watched each other. It was like he was challenging her to look away, but instead she just smiled at him and shrugged her eyebrows. He smirked, biting the inside of his bottom lip. He wasn’t giving up, either.

“What games are we going to play today?” He asked, a laugh lacing his voice.

“Go back to your book,” she laughed, kicking his thigh.

While he continued looking through his book, she moved over to the other couch with a notebook and a pencil. She perched herself perfectly so she could see him in all his glory and began sketching him. Her pencil moved smoothly across the sheet of paper while her eyes moved smoothly across Bellamy’s form. He looked up at her every few minutes, but didn’t mention anything about her studying him.

When she finished the general outline and the beginnings of shading, he closed his book which prompted her to stop sketching him. “I’m going to go upstairs and study,” she announced and he nodded slowly.

“You can’t study down here with me?” He asked her and she bit her lip and shook her head.

“I study upstairs. There are no distractions up there.”

“I _am_ verydistracting,” he teased. “Obviously,” he said, eyes staring pointedly at her now closed notebook.

“You’re just full of yourself,” she promised before grabbing the notebook and her bag. “Don’t drink the rest of that wine.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it without you.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, walking quickly up the stairs.

Once she was alone again, making her way all the way to the fourth floor, she thought back to the day before. She was stressed about finals, she was mad about running into Finn in the elevator that morning, she was dreading having to meet her mom for lunch. Now she was actually trapped in the library and she wasn’t stressed or mad or dreading anything. She was _sketching_. It had been so long and she had been so busy that she hadn’t sketched or painted or _anything_ for months—not since the last good night with Finn, in his bed, sketching his sleeping body. After she found out about his cheating—at Raven’s suggestion—she burned that sketch along with the things he’d left scattered in her room. She wasn’t proud of how good it made her feel, but she did feel amazing doing it.

Now she was stuck in the library with a guy she didn’t even know and the urge to draw just came over her. The urge to draw him, nonetheless. She couldn’t blame herself, really. He was an artist’s dream the way he stayed so still while he studied the _art_ book in his lap, curled into the corner of the couch. Not to mention the fact that he was beautiful, all tan skin, curly hair, and boyish freckles. And when he wanted to be he was really nice and funny. Not that that has anything to do with being an artist, but it made Clarke feel connected to him as a woman.

When she arrived on the fourth floor, she navigated her way to her hidden desk. She unpacked her textbooks and her notebooks, angry that she thought it was a good idea to leave her computer at home the day before—so she wouldn’t get distracted. What a fool she was. If she brought her laptop, she’d be able to access the campus Wi-Fi and get on Facebook or Twitter to get someone’s attention to get her out of the library. But, no, she left it back in her room right next to her phone charger. Raven was probably going insane not knowing where she was. It wasn’t like Clarke not to show up without word, especially not since she and Finn broke up.

Instead of cracking open her anatomy book or even her organic chem book, Clarke opened up her drawing of Bellamy. She got lost in darkening its lines and shading in his features. She didn’t even realize that he was sitting across from her, watching her getting lost in his body. That is, until he spoke.

“So, you draw?”

“Jesus, Bellamy!” She yelled, dropping her pencil and clutching her chest. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Bellamy smirked and reached across the table to remove her hand from her chest. “You can drop your pearls,” he laughed, placing it carefully on the surface. “It _is_ just me.”

“Who else would it be?” She asked, slowly bring her hand to her side of the table—out of his reach. Was it normal for your skin to practically tingle after being touched? “What are you doing up here?”

“You’ve been up here for an hour,” he said, rolling his eyes and her jaw dropped. She didn’t realize it had been that long. But when she chanced a glance at her drawing, she could see how much more work she had done on it and she knew how long that typically takes when she’s been out of practice. “I’m bored.”

“You’re a child,” she sighed. “What am I supposed to do about that?”

“I like watching you draw,” he shrugged, a smile ghosting its way to his face. “I like watching you draw… me.”

He was smirking now—she was starting to realize how often he did that and how naturally it came to him. Her face turned red and she shut the notebook with slam. “You’re the only one here,” she offered weakly.

“I mean it,” he told her seriously. “I like it. You’re good. Keep going.”

“I’m done.”

Bellamy studied her, crossing his arms on the table and she shrank against the back of her chair. He reached for the notebook slowly, as if asking for permission, and she nodded slightly—enough for him to gain confidence and pull it to his side of the table.  He flipped past her notes until he found her drawing. While he looked it over, she waited for his reaction. She expected a laugh more than anything else, but when he looked up at her with a genuine smile before looking back down at the picture, she relaxed and moved closer to the table.

“This is really good,” he commented and she clenched her fists excitedly in her lap. She didn’t show people her artwork often. It was her hobby to keep to herself and she never asked for opinions, but she did enjoy when she got them—especially positive ones. “What kind of premed student can draw like this?”

“The Clarke Griffin kind,” she shrugged and he laughed, finally looking up at her again. “It’s just something I do for fun and only when I have the time. And you were an easy model. You sat very still without me even having to tell you to.”

“I was reading,” he reminded her with a laugh. She laughed too, looking down at the drawing so she wasn’t staring at him anymore. “I thought you came up here to study.”

“Apparently I’m just easily distracted in general, it has nothing to do with you,” she told him, smiling apologetically.

“Well, _technically_ , this is a picture of me,” he said and her face went stony. “So, _technically_ , you were distracted by me. Don’t apologize; it happens to a lot of girls.”

“I think I hate you,” Clarke pondered, tilting her head. Bellamy just shook his head. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“Evidence would suggest otherwise, Clarke.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she liked the way her name sounded in his mouth. And obviously she didn’t hate him. She just hated that he was right. He was distracting—wildly so.

“Well, I’m obviously not going to get any studying done right now,” she said, shoving her books back into her bag. “Go grab me a bunch of printer paper, will you?”

“What for?” He asked, brow furrowing in a disgustingly adorable manner.

“Just go and find me some scissors if you can, too,” she ordered and he stood slowly, eyes narrowed on her.

“Aye aye, Captain,” he said, saluting her before turning through the stacks. She listened for his feet on the stairs until they were completely out of range and she dropped her head on the table.

She didn’t want to develop a crush on this guy. He was cynical and had a bad history with women. He made her want to rip off his tight little t-shirt one minute and scream in his face the next. She wanted to curl against his chest and fall asleep and, yet, she also wanted to punch him in the gut. She was feeling a lot of different things when it came to Bellamy, but she was afraid to admit that she might be feeling more of those positive feelings than the negative.  She didn’t have time for that. She didn’t have it in her to be rejected by anyone, especially not the guy she was trapped in a library with—a guy she probably never would have met on a regular day.

“Okay, Master,” Bellamy said, announcing his presence. Clarke sat up before he could pick up on her inner turmoil. “I got what you asked for. You want to tell me what it’s for?”

“What’s your sister’s name?” Clarke asked, choosing to ignore his inquiry and changing the subject while she cut the sheets of paper into small rectangles. It was easier to focus on that than on him.

“Octavia,” he answered skeptically.

“Blake?” She asked excitedly and he nodded slowly, suspiciously. “I love her. We work in the tutor center together.”

“ _You’re_ Clarke?”

“She talks about me?” That excited her for some reason. Octavia was a rare breed—stunningly beautiful, brilliant, knew exactly what she wanted and got it, but always a child at heart.

“Well, I thought you were a dude,” Bellamy admitted and Clarke rolled her eyes, counting out the rectangles she had cut. “Your name and… the way she talked about you.”

“How does she talk about me?” She laughed, crumpling up the extras she didn’t need. Then, she started trimming the edges so they were all the exact same size, waiting for Bellamy to continue.

“Like she was in love with you, honestly,” he laughed. “I thought you were a dude and she had a crush on you.”

“Oh, I’m pretty awesome,” she smiled, looking up from her hands. “But I don’t think even I have the power to break up O and Lincoln.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he sighed, running his hand through his already ruffled hair. “I’ve tried, believe me.”

“Oh my god, Bellamy,” she sighed, pushing the scissors and papers away from her so she could lean flat against the table dramatically. “You’re really _one_ of those big brothers, aren’t you? Lincoln is a nice guy!”

“He’s older than me, so he’s too old for her,” he argued and she laughed. “He doesn’t say anything, he just watches her-“

“Because he _loves_ her,” Clarke sang out and Bellamy rolled his eyes. “They’re good together. He calms her down and she loosens him up; they have a great dynamic.”

"How much time have hou actually spent with them?” He asked suddenly and she shrugged, sitting back up. “I’ve thought you were a guy this whole time and I only just met you last night, so how much time could you have possibly spent with my sister outside of the tutor center?”

“Not much, but enough,” Clarke said, shaking her head—annoyed. “And I’ve met Lincoln a number of times—with and without Octavia. He’s a good guy and you should back off.”

“No offense, but you don’t have a little sister, so you don’t know what it’s like.”

“That’s fair, you’re right,” she conceded, reaching for her pencil.

“So, you said you were supposed to meet your mom today, right?” He asked and she nodded, paying close attention to what she was doing, hoping his line of conversation ended there. “What’s she like?”

“Why?” Clarke asked, trying hard to keep the edge out of her voice—the edge that always came up when she talked about her mother.

“Because it’s only fair,” he explained, looking at her like it was obvious. “You actually know my sister, so you should tell me about your mom.”

“She’s chief of surgery at Mass General,” she answered, looking back down to continue drawing a diamond. “And no, that’s not why I want to be a doctor.”

“You just told me what she did, not who she is.”

“It’s one and the same, Bellamy,” Clarke insisted and he finally stopped talking about it.

“Are you making us a deck of cards?” He asked and she nodded. “What for?”

“We’re stuck in here for another nineteen hours,” she reminded him, as if he could forget. “So, we’re going to make some fun out of it.”

He didn’t ask any more questions, just sat back and watched her. The suits she was drawing were getting messier as she continued drawing, but she made it through all 52 cards under Bellamy’s watchful eye. Carefully, she shuffled the cards so they didn’t rip or bend and Bellamy pulled his chair closer to the table and gently took them from her hand. When she looked up at him, he had a charmingly adorable eyebrow raised in question.

“Go ahead,” she said, handing them over and he smiled as he tapped them against the table. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, there are only two of us, so poker is out of the question,” he shrugged. “Which is a shame, because I was going to suggest strip poker.”

“Maybe we’ll revisit that when we finish the wine tonight,” she smiled and he laughed—nervously. It gave her a confidence she wasn’t feeling with him before. “What about now, though?”

“Nice, friendly game of… Go Fish?” He smirked and she laughed before nodding.

They played, making each other laugh. After the first game ended in Clarke’s victory, Bellamy suggested that they move back downstairs, out in the open. She shrugged and they made their way to the first floor shoulder to shoulder. At one point, she almost tripped down the stairs and he caught her—one of his arms circling her waist.

“You okay?” He asked when she was tucked against his chest and she nodded silently, afraid of how weak her voice would sound if she used it. He held onto her longer than was necessary and she almost relaxed against him, but then he finally let her go—slowly to make sure she was steady on her feet.

“Okay,” she breathed out and she turned around to send him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, brushing past her. “No problem,” he called out as an afterthought. She needed to breathe for a minute to collect herself and continue following him down the stairs.

She needed to keep it together and not fall into a puddle every time he looked at her or touched her. Or she needed to attack his mouth with her mouth and just move past the tension that was building in her gut.

“Clarke!”

She let out a soothing breath and continued downstairs to find him leaning against the banister like he didn’t just run away from her. Apparently, he needed the minute alone, too.

“Did you get lost?” He asked and she shook her head until she was standing flat in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m about to get really deep right now, okay?” She asked breathlessly and he started to shake his head but turned it into a nod instead. “We don’t know each other very well, but I kind of like hanging out with you, you know? Even if it was all because we fell asleep in the library at the same time. And you’re like the only man I’ve been attracted to since the incident with Finn and that is kind of a big deal. And I don’t care if Wells wouldn’t approve of you because Wells isn’t the one locked in a library with you; I am”

“What are you saying, Clarke?” He asked, licking his lips nervously. He tried to keep the smile off his face, but failed. “Are we getting to a point?”

Clarke let out three deep breaths, pushed her bag off of her shoulder, and threw her arms around Bellamy’s neck. He looked terrified for about a second before his face turned serious and he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was feverish at first—hands roaming everywhere, lips and tongues moving in rhythm—but once they got a feel for each other and realized neither was running away, Bellamy took control and slowed it down.

His hands cradled her head and hers floated down to his chest and she stood taller on her toes, but he walked her back until she was against the wall. She wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but when he pulled away, she knew she didn’t want it to end. Her lips were pulled toward his again, but he pulled back sharply and turned his head slightly until she fell back against the wall—like a punch to the gut.

She tried to wriggle out from between him and the wall, but he took a step closer and she was trapped. “Bellamy,” she seethed and his hand warmed her cheek.

“What are we doing?” He asked directly into her ear and she shuttered against her will.

“I-“ she couldn’t think straight enough to come up with an answer.

“You kissed me,” he reminded her and she pushed him away just enough to point up at him.

“You kissed me back!” She argued and he grabbed her hand, linking his fingers with hers. When they were palm to palm, he kissed her again—quickly—and rested his forehead against hers.

“What do you want to happen?” He asked. She could feel his hot breath ghosting over her lips and she didn’t even mind that neither of them was able to brush their teeth that morning. She just wanted to kiss him again. “Where is this going?”

“Why am I the only one who’s supposed to have answers?” She asked, practically begging. His lips were so close; she couldn’t stop staring at them. “You kissed me back. What do _you_ want to happen? Where do _you_ think this is going?”

“I don’t want to answer that because I don’t know what _you_ want,” he admitted quietly before stepping away from her. He kept hold of her hand, though.

“Well, same here,” she said, wrenching her hand out of his. She took a deep, cleansing breath. “It never happened.”

“I didn’t say I wanted _that_ , Clarke.”

“Bellamy, we have a long day ahead of us,” she reminded him, pulling her hair behind her ear so she could braid it. It was messy enough from not showering, his fingers running through it made it unmanageable now. “I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t-“

“Let’s just… Play some more cards,” she suggested and he sighed before nodding.

\--

They ended up on the same couch—her with her legs tucked against her chest, him with his lying across the entire set of cushions. They were both studying, ignoring the more than three feet of snow outside the windows behind them. Bellamy turned slightly so he could turn the page of his book and his leg began to fall off the couch. Quickly, and without thinking, Clarke caught it with her foot and tucked it between her ankles. He looked up with a smile and she nodded in return—not a word shared between them.

They never played more cards after they shared a kiss. They ended up on that couch and sat in silence until Bellamy finally pulled out one of his textbooks. After a few minutes, she pulled out her anatomy book. And they studied in silence.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Bellamy asked carefully. Clarke finished the sentence she was reading and still waited a moment for wrenching her eyes off the book to look at him.

“What?” She asked, trying hard to keep the tension out of her voice. She wanted to forget that they kissed and move on, but his socked foot kept rubbing against her ankle and she had to keep rereading her book.

“Could you quiz me?”

She looked at him with a blank stare but closed her book and dropped it on the floor. “What do you need me to do?” She asked and he handed her his book, opened to a set of questions.

“The answers are in the back,” he explained and she nodded. She sat up straighter and rested her legs next to his.

Clarke went through each of the questions, leaving him time to answer each one—correctly. She could see how unsure he was before answering, but he still ended with only getting one wrong. When they finished, she smiled up at him.

“I think you’re ready,” she offered, handing him his book. “You shouldn’t be worried.”

“I can’t fail,” he admitted and Clarke smiled again.

“Bellamy, I promise, you’re doing better than you think,” she promised and Bellamy finally smiled. “So, does this mean we’re back to normal now?”

“No,” he said, still smiling and she sighed. “We made out. That’s not normal. It _could_ be.”

“Do you want it to be?”

He was confusing her. She could go back to kissing him. She was having fun being trapped in a library with him, so she could only imagine how much fun they’d have outside in the world. But he wasn’t telling her anything.

“Are we really doing this right now?” He asked, standing up. His hands ran through his hair and threaded at the back of his neck.   

“You started it, Bellamy,” she reminded him, standing up to face him. “ _You_ said we weren’t normal.”

“We kissed, Clarke! It’s not normal. I didn’t even know you twenty-four hours ago. So, no we are _not_ normal.”

“Well, then back to my original question, do you want the kissing to be normal or do you want to go back to how it was this morning?” Clarke asked—begged, practically.

He took a step closer to her and she could feel a magnetic pull bringing her even closer. “You’re the princess, I’m the rebel,” he smirked and she rolled her eyes. “What happens on Monday, Clarke?”

“This isn’t the Breakfast Club, Bellamy,” she reminded him. “Anything can happen on Monday. It’s not dictated by some movie from 1985; it’s up to us.”

“Fine!”

Then, he was kissing her again, grabbing at her waist like he was drowning and she was his flotation device. She felt compelled to push him away and keep arguing, but then his tongue graced her lips and she allowed him to explore. They moved to the couch, Bellamy pulling her to sit across his lap. He started to undo her braid while still kissing her and she helped him, fluffing it over her shoulders. He took advantage and tangled his fingers through it while his other arm circled her waist.

“But what does happen on Monday?” Clarke breathed when his lips glided down to her neck where they latched for a few seconds before pulling back to look at her.

“Whatever you want,” he told her, trying to catch his breath. “ _Anything_ you want.”

“So, you want to get married?” She asked, trying—and failing—to keep the teasing smile off her face. Bellamy chuckled, nibbling at her earlobe for a second to catch the last of his breath.

“If that’s what you want,” he said finally and she laughed, shoving him playfully. “Or we could just… Hang out, out there in the world away from these books.”

“That’s what I want,” she whispered and he smiled before kissing her again, resting her back against the couch so he was above her.

           


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting fluffy up in this library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few notes:
> 
> 1.I decided to switch things up and have this chapter come from Bellamy's POV.  
> 2\. I've also decided to add a fourth chapter and a few more characters in that fourth chapter. It will also be from Bellamy's POV. I'm not sure when it will be up.  
> 3\. This one's not as long as the other two, but since I'm adding another unplanned chapter, you can't be that mad at me, right?

They were sitting atop one of the tables in the middle of the third floor, just looking at each other, both of them trying to keep from laughing. Then Bellamy watched as Clarke flipped through his text book, searching for a question to beat him with. She asked, he answered correctly and she let out a dramatic sob.

“Bellamy, it’s freezing,” she reminded him and he just shrugged. “I hate you.”

“Take off your shirt, Clarke,” he told her and she rolled her eyes before pulling the fabric over her head. Bellamy didn’t even pretend to hide his stare and she turned pink underneath the little light streaming through the windows.

“Ask me,” she told him, kicking her anatomy book against his shin. He shook out of his trance and smirked, shrugging an eyebrow, before flipping through to find a good question.

"This was a really good idea,” he muttered, still looking, and she scoffed. “You’re a genius.”

“Shut up and ask me a question,” she told him, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. He looked up at her and leaned over enough to hook a hand around her neck and pull her to meet him in the middle. “Don’t,” she laughed and he smiled before kissing her—quick but hard.

He fell back on his side of the table and laughed before finding a question on one of her highlighted pages. He asked, she answered correctly with a fist thrust above her head, and he slipped off the table so he could drop his pants and leave them in the growing pile of their clothes on the floor.

She glanced over his body appreciatively and smiled when their eyes locked. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he could feel his face flush under her gaze. She slipped off the table to stand in front of him and he knew—without a doubt—that he never wanted to look at another mismatched pair of underwear again. Well, unless of course, it was on the same body.

Clarke’s hands drifted from his naval to his shoulders—slowly—without ever breaking eye contact and his breathing became ragged under the cold skin of her hands. But they were smooth, just like the rest of her looked, and he urged to reach out for her bare waist. But he didn’t.

When they’d realized they were making out—quite aggressively—on top of Clarke’s deck of cards and found them torn and bent, they had nothing else to entertain themselves with. And they still needed to study. After catching their breath, Bellamy suggested they do just that—study for a while. He watched as Clarke considered it—her hand still tangled in his hair at the base of his skull—and he immediately saw the change in her when she came up with an idea. Strip studying. For every question he got right, she’d take off a piece of clothing as a reward, and vice versa.

And now they were there—Bellamy in his boxers and socks, Clarke in her bra and underwear. Her hands were making their way down his arms and she pulled on his wrists and placed his hands on her hips—low on her hips. His breathing hitched and his fingers twitched to grip the skin underneath. He was nervous.

Bellamy couldn't remember the last time he was nervous in front of a girl. He wasn’t sure he had ever been nervous around a girl. Because he never cared before. But Clarke was the first girl he’d touched in a romantic manner since he made the conscious decision to stop sleeping around. And he was definitely starting to care.

“Bellamy,” she said softly and he pulled her body flush against his. He couldn’t help it. He loved the way he said her name—the way her tongue curled in the middle of it and her voice caught at the end. And then she _giggled_ and he lost any semblance of control. His lips were back on hers and his arms were circling her tiny waist and he was lifting her until she was perched on the edge of the table.

When her legs circled his hips, he cradled her head between his palms and his fingers delved into her curls. Her small, yet capable hands were on his back—her nails no doubt leaving marks—and when she breathed his name again, he groaned against her neck and bit down to leave his own mark.

It wasn’t every day Bellamy Blake got locked in a library with a beautiful girl and it wasn’t every day he got her down to her underwear before even touching her, either. He didn’t know what he was doing, who he was becoming, but he never wanted to stop if it felt as good as Clarke’s hands on his bare back and chest and face.

“Seriously,” she breathed, pushing him back slight. “Bell.”

He sobered finally and rested his forehead on her shoulder—still bare, still smooth, still absolutely perfect. It was becoming too much—he was going to combust at a moment’s notice.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said finally, pulling back to stand up. He locked his fingers at the base of his neck so he wasn’t compelled to keep touching her, but her legs were still lightly wrapped around him. He laughed, licking his bottom lip, and she smiled up at him. 

“Neither do I,” she promised. “As much as having sex in the middle of a library has always been one of my weird fantasies…”

Bellamy barked out another laugh and she blushed, covering her face in her hands. He took them away slowly, and pressed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth before unwinding her legs from his body.

“Not like this,” he agreed, sitting down next to her so their knees were just barely touching.

“Not like this,” she nodded and he nudged her shoulder with his own. “Hmm?” She hummed glancing up at him through her eyelashes.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said and she shrugged, silently asking him to elaborate. “We should try this again when we’re not forced together in here,” he explained and she smiled. “Octavia will be so pleased.”

“Why do you say that?”

Bellamy leaned back with his hands holding him up behind him and Clarke kicked her legs up so her heels were planted against his thighs and her knees were bent against his chest. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he told her. “I think she’s been trying to tell me something this whole time she’s been talking about you. Like she knew we’d get along.”

“ _Do_ we get along?” She asked, her laugh echoing through the third floor and he pinched the skin on the underside of her thigh and she shoved his shoulder with a yelp.

“Apparently not,” he laughed and she smiled, folding herself against her legs, bringing her face just inches away from his.

“I do like you,” she admitted quietly and he nodded, swallowing hard. “You’re not what I expected. _This_ is not what I expected.”

“Nothing ever is,” he reminded her and she nodded, biting the inside of her cheeks like she was holding something in. But then, she smiled and kissed him until his arms were circling her again. “At least we know O already likes you.”

“I like you, Octavia likes me,” she said, hand smoothing the wild hair at the back of his head. “There’s just one missing-“

“I like you,” he said quickly and she smiled. “I like when you do that,” he told her, kissing her smile and she hid her face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t do this, Clarke. I don’t _like_ girls. I sleep with them. I ignore them. I don’t do this.”

When she pulled back to look at him, her smile was gone and her face was serious. “And I don’t reward study partners by taking off my clothes one article at a time. I don’t sit around a library in the middle of winter in my underwear, I don’t do _this_ ,” she reminded him. “But, maybe that’s why this is going to be a good thing. It’s new.”

“We don’t know it’s going to be a good thing,” he reminded her sadly and Clarke swung her legs away from him to slide off the table. She stood in front of him and slung her arms around his neck, using her hip to wrench his knees apart so she could settle between them.

“I have a feeling,” she said finally and it took a few seconds, but Bellamy smiled. “Don’t you?”

“I feel something.”

\--

When they finally got dressed and made their way back downstairs to the rest of their things, Bellamy sat down on the floor next to Clarke and handed her one of his bags of chips. They ate in silence, leaning against the back of the couch as they watched the snow continue to fall. He wasn’t sure it was ever going to stop at this point.

When he happened upon her talking to herself the night before, he never imagined they would end up there—leaning on each other, laughing about a return cart they knocked over when they were stumbling around, fused at the lips. From the corner of his eye he could see it, still lying across the floor spilling books, but he didn’t dare move away from the warmth of Clarke’s body against his.

“What kind of doctor do you want to be?” He asked suddenly, quietly. The snow made him feel like the rest of the world was silent and he didn’t want to disrupt them.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, turning away from the window to look at him. “Not a surgeon.”

“Not like your mom?” He asked and she nodded, but then quickly shook her head.

“Not _because_ of my mom; it’s just not what I want to do,” she explained and he nodded, finishing his chips. “Maybe the ER, but maybe a pediatrician. Right now, I’m leaning toward pediatrician, but last month I was more toward an ER doctor. I still have some time to figure it out.”

“I’m sure you’ll be great at whatever you decide,” Bellamy told her and she smiled before dropping a kiss on his cheek. He smiled and tangled his fingers with hers. “So, you and your mom don’t get along?” He guessed, remembering the way she brushed the topic of her off earlier.

“We don’t see each other enough to know whether or not we get along,” she laughed sadly. “She always worked a lot, but when my dad died that was all she wanted to do. And she hasn’t stopped in three years.”

“I’m sorry,” he winced and she shrugged, smiling sadly. “My mom owns a restaurant and wasn’t around much either when we were kids. And we don’t know our father, so it was just me and Octavia most of the time.”

“Sorry,” she said, her smooth palm resting against his cheek. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Clarke’s smile was playful and her eyes were bright blue and Bellamy swore he wasn’t getting lost in them. “A professor,” he answered finally. “In the city somewhere, so I’m close to home. And O.”

“You have the perfect amount of passion and grumpiness to be a professor here,” she teased and he laughed, kissing her quickly. “No, but seriously, I can see you doing really well at that.”

“You don’t even know me,” he reminded her and she scoffed dramatically. “We’re going to wake up tomorrow and this never happened. It was just a dream you had after seeing me across the street one day. You knew you had to be with me and, so, you made this whole thing up in your head.”

“Shut up,” she laughed and he joined her, their foreheads joining. “I’m getting to know you. That’s part of the whole not sleeping with randos thing, you know? You actually have to talk to the girl.”

"I guess I’m glad you’re that girl, because otherwise I’d have no one to tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“Maybe I should be the professor.”

“Maybe.”

From Octavia, Bellamy knew enough about Nicholas Sparks books and movies to know that he never believed any of it. People don’t fall in lifelong love after only a couple of days. It just _doesn’t_ happen. Then again, he was looking at Clarke—who was unshowered and hadn’t brushed her teeth in days—and he knew he was in trouble. And every time her blue eyes fell on his unshaved face and unwashed hair, he was almost certain he saw the same thing reflected in her.

It was after midnight and he knew that someone would be unlocking the library at 7:30 and then he and Clarke would be off to take their respective finals. Then what? Was he supposed to ask her out on a date? Bellamy usually hated dates, but he didn’t think it would be the case anymore.

“What’s your best friend’s name?” Clarke asked him suddenly and he rested back against the couch and crossed his ankles in front of him. She settled against his side and he put his arm around her shoulders to draw her closer.

“Miller,” he said into her hair and she nodded. “He’s my roommate. He’s a really good guy. What about you? I mean, other than Wells who wouldn’t approve of me,”

“Raven,” she laughed, her hand falling on his chest so her fingers could tap lightly. “She’s my roommate, too. A genius, a badass, my lifeline here. She’s great and we have a good group of guys we hang out with, too.”

“Raven Reyes?” He asked and she nodded, glancing up at him. “Shit.”

“What?” She asked, pulling out of his grasp and he sighed, biting his cheek.

“We, um, she and I, uh- We hooked up at a party like four months ago,” he explained sheepishly and Clarke’s face was drained of all its color. “But it was just a few kisses. I did not sleep with her and I don’t wa-“

“You made out with my best friend?” She asked and he hesitated before nodding. She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded before opening them slowly. “Okay, well, that may change things.”

“Clarke, I didn’t even know you!” He reminded her and she put her hand flat against his chest and before he could argue, she kissed him slowly. He wanted to melt into her.

“It’s not you, I know we didn’t know each other,” she insisted only a breath away from his lips. “But there’s a code. I need to check with Raven before we hang out and start trying something outside of this stupid library.”

“That’s cool and all, and I respect that,” he said quickly. “But I’m almost positive she’s not going to care. We left it with her punching me in the face for touching her butt, so I don’t think she likes me or anything.”

 Clarke laughed, rolling away from him to hide her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said, still laughing. “That was _you_?”

“Oh, good, you’ve heard,” he said, unable to keep the smile off his face. “That was me.”

“Yeah, no, I’m pretty sure she hates you.”

“Great, that’s good news,” he laughed and Clarke fell into his side again. “Don’t worry, I’ll impress her as the guy her roommate really, really, _really_ likes.”

“Oh, is that how her roommate feels about you?” She asked and Bellamy nodded. “If you say so.”

“I do, and I’m always right,” he insisted and she laughed, quietly muttering ‘jackass’ before kissing him again.

\--

They continued like that—talking and kissing and laughing—until they fell asleep on the floor. They were hidden behind the couch, so it took longer than they imagined to be found.

“Did you sleep here?”

Bellamy blinked awake, ready to sit up but couldn’t with Clarke curling further into him at the interruption. When he realized it was a librarian talking to him, his face fell stony and he schooled his expression.

“Did you forget to look for sleeping students before locking the library?” He asked and Clarke finally sighed and sat up so he could too. “Is it _your_ fault I haven’t had real food or a shower since Saturday?”

“Bellamy,” Clarke said, putting a calming hand on his shoulder. “Come on.”

He looked at her and she pointed her gaze until he sighed and stood up, reaching for her hand. “You should really do a better job making sure no one is in here before you close this place down on the weekend.”

“Bellamy!”

He turned toward the entrance and saw Octavia—all wild eyed and relieved. She dropped her bag on the floor and ran across the room to hug him. He was still holding onto Clarke’s hand, so he wrapped one arm around his sister while her hand held him at the back of his head.

“I was really worried about you,” she said, pulling back. “What happened?”

“Long story,” he sighed and she nodded, her eyes moving to Clarke. Octavia smiled when she saw her friend, but Bellamy could see the clear joy on her face when she realized their hands were tangled together. “You know Clarke, I hear,” he said, smirking and Octavia laughed.

“Hey, O,” Clarke said, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Well, would you look at this,” Octavia said, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “You were locked in here together.”

“Yeah,” Clarke nodded, her free hand curling around Bellamy’s bicep and he looked back at her. “It’s been a long weekend.”

“Well, go eat and shower, I’m sure it’s been tough in here,” Octavia said, her eyes still shining. “Finals got rescheduled because of the snow, so you’re free today.”

“Thank god,” Bellamy sighed, leaning in to kiss his sister on the cheek. “You’re studying here?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall asleep.”

He nodded and looked back at Clarke before they untangled from each other to grab their things. Before leaving the library, though, Bellamy made it a point to give each of the librarians a dirty look. He wasn’t actually mad anymore, but it was the principle of the matter. Had he been alone or stuck with anyone else, he’d be screaming at them all, but as it were, he was okay as long as he was out with Clarke.

 “Want to hit up a diner for breakfast?” He asked once they hit the sidewalk. Suddenly, he yawned and rubbed his hand over his face. “Maybe after I shave and shower?”

“You should definitely do that,” she teased, nudging his hip with hers.

“You’re one to talk,” he laughed and Clarke stopped short to bring his lips down on hers. He kissed her there on the side of the busy city street, one arm curling around her waist while his other hand tangled in her hair. “Mmm,” he hummed against her lips and she smiled before pulling back.

“Walk me home?” Clarke requested and Bellamy nodded before intertwining their fingers.

            


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun with this fluffy little adventure with Bellamy and Clarke. I'll most likely be back with more stories about these two... They kind of own my heart and soul at the moment.

As soon as they were in their dorm, Bellamy realized what a strange, strange weekend it had been. Sure, getting locked in a library is strange enough, but to add a girl who’d lived in the same building as him for an entire semester that he’d never met but who now he couldn’t stop kissing. It was _strange._ It didn’t make sense.

Then, Clarke smiled up at him, her eyebrows raised playfully, and he didn’t care if it made sense. All he cared about was getting up to the twelfth floor to shave and take a shower so he could take her out for breakfast, as if he _hadn’t_ just been stuck alone with her for thirty-six hours.

“I’ll meet you down here in, like, an hour?” She asked once they were outside of the elevator. As she was backing away, he realized she was planning on taking the stairs to the fourth floor.

“I don’t think so,” he laughed, grabbing onto her wrist and pulling her toward him.

“Bellamy,” she laughed, lading against his chest with a thud, “I’m only on the fourth floor. I can take the stairs.”

“What kind of person would I be—what kind of _man_ would I be—if I let you walk up those stairs?” He asked. His tongue swept out to wet his lips and he noticed her eyes wander to them.

“You’d be a monster,” she said breathlessly and Bellamy smiled triumphantly as he stood on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. He smiled into it and tangled his fingers in her hair to deepen it.

When the elevator door dinged, announcing its arrival, they sprang apart to find none other than Finn Collins staring at them.

“G’Morning,” Bellamy nodded, wiping the back of his hand over his lips while Clarke hid her face and laughed into his shoulder. Finn didn’t move, blocking their way into the elevator. “Mind if we…” Bellamy trailed off, glancing behind him to the empty elevator.

“Oh, yeah,” Finn said distractedly and Bellamy smiled tightly in gratitude when he finally moved.

When the doors closed and they started moving, Bellamy glanced down at Clarke. “Is it just me, or was that even more satisfying than it could have been?” He asked and she laughed, her fingers intertwining with his.

“So satisfying,” she agreed and their short ride ended at the fourth floor. “See you in a little while,” she said, letting his hand fall.

As soon as she stepped off the elevator, he fell into step behind her. “Now, what kind of person would I be if I didn’t walk you to the door?” He whispered into her ear when his chest came in contact with her back. He felt her stiffen against him before turning to face him.

“Who knew you were such a _gentleman_?” She asked as her fingers tightened around the pockets of his jacket. She walked them down a few doors and stopped when they reached hers, her back falling against it. He put a palm against the door, on either side of her body and leaned down.

“There’s so much you don’t know about me, Clarke,” he reminded her.

“Ah, yes,” she remembered and her hands flattened against his chest before roaming lower so she could wrap her arms around his waist. “So much to learn.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed before his lips descended on her neck and she relaxed beneath him until his teeth made contact with her skin and she laughed.

“Bellamy,” she laughed, stepping away from the door so she could push him away softly. “We’re being indecent.”

“Clarke. Griffin.”

They both looked at each other before Clarke turned around to face her roommate. “Raven,” she greeted, smiling sheepishly. “You know, Bellamy,” she said, waving her hand at him until he stepped next to her.

“Where have you been? Why haven’t you answered any of my texts or calls?” She asked, ignoring Bellamy all together. He had a feeling it wouldn’t last, though.

“We got locked in the library on Saturday,” Clarke explained. “Well, I fell asleep and only woke up after it was all locked down. And my phone died.”

“What’s _his_ excuse?” Raven asked, eyes flicking to him with venom.

“Actually, the exact same one,” he told her. “Fell asleep studying for finals, woke up with a dead phone. I found her talking to herself.”

“Yeah,” Raven nodded, arms crossed. “She does that.”

“I’ll be right in, Rae,” Clarke said. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“So, is this like… A thing?” She asked, waving her hand between them. “You and _Bellamy_?”

“I’ll be right in,” Clarke laughed and Raven sighed before leaving them alone in the hallway. “Sorry about that.”

“It could have been a lot worse,” he reminded her and she nodded. “So, I guess I should go,” he said and she nodded as her hand fell on his scruffy cheek.

“Yeah, you should,” she agreed as her fingers lightly scratched his face. He nodded again and kissed her—slowly and sweetly. “See you in an hour.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

She smiled at him and he backed away, watching her hand fall back to her side. When he was safely tucked inside the elevator, he forced himself to stop smiling. He wasn’t some lovesick puppy. He’d simply met a girl. That was it. But when the door opened on the twelfth floor, he felt the smile returning and didn’t care to do anything about it.

As he turned the corner toward his room, he heard Miller’s voice and saw his head peeking out of their door into the hallway. He was talking to another guy, someone Bellamy had seen around the elevators and dining halls, but he couldn’t quite put a name to the face.

When Miller laughed and kissed him goodbye, Bellamy stopped short to let them have a minute to themselves, but Miller’s eye caught his as soon as he leaned back.

“You’re alive?” He asked and Bellamy nodded before stepping toward them. His friend turned to look at him and Miller stepped into the hall fully. “Where have you been, man?”

“I got locked in the library,” he explained. “And my phone died.”

“Were you alone?” Miller’s friend asked and Bellamy’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with my friend Clarke since Saturday morning. I know she went to the library.”

“She was there,” Bellamy confirmed. “She’s okay. I just walked her back to her room.”

“ _You_ walked a girl to her room?” Miller asked with a laugh and Bellamy sighed before shrugging sheepishly. “I’ll be damned, Bellamy Blake is in love.”

“No, I’m not,” he said meekly. “But I do have to meet her for breakfast, so I’ve got to take a shower.”

“ _Showering_ for a girl?” Miller laughed again and Bellamy shoved past him. “This is Monty, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bellamy said, stopping just inside the door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Looks that way,” he agreed, smiling shyly. Bellamy smiled and nodded before letting the door close between them. After plugging his phone into its charger, he grabbed what he needed and headed for the showered.

\--

Bellamy towel dried his hair in his room as he listened to the voicemails from Octavia and Miller asking him question after question about Clarke. He checked his texts, answering the ones that weren’t Octavia or Miller to let them know he _was_ alive and alright.

“So, when did this thing with Monty start?” He asked the second Miller stopped his line of unanswered questions. They looked at each other—Bellamy with a raised eyebrow and Miller with a goofy faraway look in his eye.

“About the same time you and one of his best friends got locked in a library together,” he finally answered and Bellamy laughed. “We met at that party and we ended up getting snowed in yesterday. So, we made a weekend out of it.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy nodded, reaching for his wallet and keys on his desk. “It’s been a hell of a weekend.”

“You can say that again,” Miller chuckled and Bellamy smiled before putting his jacket on. “I swear to god, man, if you don’t tell me about this girl when you get back from your _date_ , I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Since when do you care about the girls I date?” Bellamy laughed, one hand on the door handle the other in his jacket pocket.

“Since you can’t stop smiling,” Miller shrugged and Bellamy tamped down him smile with a nod. It only made Miller laugh, so he left without another word and got into the elevator.

Unlike the hour or so before, it stopped at every floor for people to get in and join him. It took nearly five minutes for it to make its way to Clarke’s floor. He didn’t realize how impatient he was until he was surrounded by chattering people and none of them were Clarke.

“Finally,” he murmured when the doors opened to the fourth floor and he pushed himself out without a look back.

The closer he got to her door, the hungrier he got. Two days without a real meal—nothing more than a bag or chips and carrots really—and he couldn’t help imagining the family sized breakfast he planned on taking down himself. With his fist poised to knock, the door opened and revealed Raven.

He stopped short, putting both his hands into his jacket pockets and when he opened his mouth to ask where Clarke was, Raven stepped out in the hall with him and let the door fall shut behind her.

“Um, hi,” he said and her stony face somehow got even stonier before she pushed him away from the door—no doubt so Clarke wouldn’t hear whatever she had to say.

“What’s your angle, man?” She asked, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Don’t fuck with her.”

“You don’t actually know me, Reyes,” he reminded her and she just raised her eyebrows. “You don’t get to judge me solely on that _one_ time we met.”

“We made out for like a second and your hands were groping my ass,” she said and he squeezed his eyes shut at the reminder. “Who does that?”

“Look, that was months ago, okay? I don’t want to just grab Clarke’s ass and make out with her in a dark corner of some club.”

“I swear to god, Bellamy,” she started, arms falling to her side as she sighed. “I will _end_ you if I find out that you hurt her. She’s been through enough of that this year.”

“She’s a big girl,” he told her and she shook her head and Bellamy swore she was going to punch him again. “But,” he started quickly, pulling a hand out of his pocket to stop any incoming jabs. “We’re just going out for breakfast. I don’t intend on hurting her. I like her.”

He watched Raven’s fist unclench and he felt safe enough to put his hand back into his pocket. “I’ll end you,” she said one last time before turning on her heel to head back to her room. Bellamy sighed and ran a hand through his hair before following her. “Clarke, Bellamy’s here.”

He followed her inside and Clarke looked up from her phone and smiled at him. She finished typing something out and stood to greet him. “Hi,” she said and he nodded at her while she put on her jacket and tucked her phone into her pocket. “I’ll be back a little later, Raven. You want anything?”

“No, thanks,” she said with an easy smile Bellamy had never seen before. “Have fun, okay?”

“Thanks,” Clarke said raising her brows playfully at Bellamy he smiled and stepped aside to open the door for her.

\--

“So, how many texts and voicemails did you have when your phone finally turned on?” Clarke asked over her coffee cup before she took a sip.

“Three voicemails and, like, ten texts from Octavia, and I think I had 125 unread text messages,” he laughed and her eyes widened at the number. “We have a huge group chat going on with me, Miller, and a few of our other friends,” he explained. “Most of it was them theorizing my sudden disappearance. What about you?”

“About ten voicemails from Raven and my friend Monty, texts from them and my friends Jasper and Harper,” she told him with a single laugh and a shake of her head. “I’ve let them all know I’m alive, though. It was kind of nice not having a phone for a couple of days, though, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t hate it,” he agreed and she smiled at him from across the table. He could feel the toe of her boot against his ankle and he didn’t hate that, either. “Oh, by the way, I actually met your friend Monty this morning.”

“You did?” She asked and he nodded, turning his coffee cup in circles. “He, uh, spent the weekend with Miller. Nice kid.”

“He’s actually _the nicest_ kid,” Clarke informed him as their food got delivered and they both pulled back so their numerous plates could be set between them. “Miller better be, too.”

“He’s a good guy,” Bellamy promised with a laugh.

They ate and talked when their mouths weren’t completely full, all sense of decorum out the window as soon as the first taste of bacon graced their tongues. Bellamy didn’t care that there was syrup all over his fingers or that he made it through a stack of pancakes in record time. Clarke was doing just as much damage on her side of the table only stopping to tell him a quick anecdote or to take a sip of her coffee.

When the bill came and their plates were cleared, they both sat flush against their respective seats, letting their newly full stomachs a minute to digest.

“I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed breakfast that much,” Clarke told him slowly and he nodded in agreement. “And it only had a very small amount to do with the company.”

“I didn’t even know you were here,” he teased and she bit her bottom lip. She had a soft look in her eyes as she looked at him—studied him. “What?” He asked skeptically, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear whatever she was thinking.

“This was the craziest weekend,” she finally said and he laughed. “I mean… I was supposed to study, have lunch with my mom, and study some more.”

“Hey, we studied,” he reminded her, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table.

“Yeah, _each other_ while we took off our clothes,” she laughed, leaning forward as well. Her arms lay flat against the table and he picked up one of her hands to link her fingers through his.

“I learned _a lot_ ,” he promised and she kicked his shin under the table. “Tell me the truth, though, did it suck?”

She thought about it for a second, letting out a deep sigh before a small smile began to spread. “No,” she insisted. “It definitely did not suck.”

“Good,” he smiled and she pushed herself forward to kiss him quickly. “So, where do we go from here? I’m new to this dating thing, remember?”

“Huh,” she hummed and her free hand rested atop his on the table. “We could… get dinner some time? Or see a movie? Or go to a party? There are so many options for two college kids trying to date.”

“I am not opposed to any of those things,” he said honestly and she nodded, licking her lips. “Should we head back? Get some real studying done?”

“You don’t have to date me, you know?” She said suddenly, pulling her hands away from him as she slid back in her seat.

“What?”

“I don’t want to, like, force you into this,” she said and his brow just furrowed deeper. “If you’re not into it, we don’t have to date. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Clarke,” he said, dropping his money for the bill down on the table so he could stand up and pull her with him. “I want to do this. I want to at least try. Really, I do.”

“Bellamy, we don’t even know each other,” she said and he looked around the quiet diner before grabbing her hand and pulling her out to the sidewalk. “Bell.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he pled as he led them down the street. “But, isn’t that what dating’s for? Why are you bailing on me so soon? Did I screw up that badly?”

“No, it’s been weirdly perfect and that’s kind of freaking me out,” she admitted and he laugh humorlessly. “You were kind of an asshole when we met.”

“I’m _can be_ kind of an asshole,” he said. “But, that doesn’t change anything that’s happened since then, does it?”

“No, I guess not,” she admitted and he smiled. “You’re right.”

“Good,” he nodded. He put his hand out, palm up, and she hesitated for only a second before putting her hand in his. “Now, after finals this week, do you want to do something?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly. “Maybe even before that, you know? If we need a study break.”

“I seem to remember that you are excellent at study breaks,” he said, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face and she laughed.

She pulled on his hand to stop him from walking toward the door and he turned toward her. Before he could get a word out, she’d dropped his hand and her fingers delved into his hair so she could pull his face down to kiss her.

His hands slipped into her open jacket and as the last bit of snow continued falling around them, he pulled her flush against his body and kissed her back with all his might.


End file.
